Love ScornedOr Not?
by Miranda le Ginger
Summary: Being rejected is not a very good feeling, even when you are a renowned champion. However, sometimes jealousy brings out the emotions in people that so desperately wants to remain hidden. Of course, lust could also be a factor.


A/N: Wanted to blend my three favorite genres into a fic: romance, humor, and angst. Well, there is going to be an abundance of all three. And who best to model this than the Champion of Kirkwall and everyone's favorite sluttitudinous pirate/smuggler, Isabela.

Disclaimer: I do **not** own Dragon Age 2 or the characters. Except for Amara, of course. Oh, and I never thought I would hate any of my OCs….

**Warning: The rating of this piece is a high T; there are suggestive themes, heavy allusions to intercourse, and a good bit of swearing. If cussing, talk of really hot sex, or suggestive words bother you or do not interest you, I would recommend you to not read this. No actual depictions of intercourse; just heavily implied. You have been fairly warned**.

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Claire Hawke, the noble and famous Champion of Kirkwall….was getting hammered at the local bar, The Hanged Man. Now, why would such a monumental person, a pivotal figure, go to a bar when surely there were more appropriate things to be had? Well, tis simple: she went to the Hanged Man to find solace. Solace, in a bottle. Again, the question is raised of exactly why the hero would need to get royally drunk to find peace, which Hawke ironically gave to the people that were so enamored with her? Surely, a woman such as her would be able to find comforts in the arms of an actual person, whether feelings were involved or not? Therein lies the problem; the seeking of comforts stems from one such feeling, and just so happens to be the strongest and deadliest of all: love.

Claire had been through many a trial; the stoic swordswoman had battled Darkspawn on the way to Kirkwall, and watched her younger brother tossed around by an ogre and killed. She had witnessed dark magic…blood magic…destroy the precious light that still existed, including her own mother at the hands of a deranged man….and she had borne the guilt of her mage sister's induction into the Grey Wardens, a surefire death sentence. No, Claire Hawke was no coward, or a fool; she had faced darkness and evil head-on without fear. But, in the face of love, and an unrequited one...it was slowly tearing her apart inside.

Who in their right mind would turn down a noble warrior such as Claire Hawke? Not many, of course. But, unfortunately for the young hero, the one woman she had to fall so madly in love with just so happened to be a pirate….who loves to sleep with anything with legs. Yep, you guessed the mystery woman: our dear old Isabela the (former) pirate captain. Of course, she would never tell you she is a captain no longer; rather she does not sail on a ship anymore. She chose to stay right where she was in Kirkwall, surrounded by her new comrades. Being a…"free spirit," Isabela was not content to just simmer away at bars and playing nice; she still annoyed the hell out of Aveline, did her damndest to corrupt young impressionable Merrill, and acted like a slattern at every available time of the day.

It would not have been so hard for Hawke to get over the pirate…if they had not shared an intimate encounter around the time she first received the Amell mansion. It had been Hawke's first time, and the beautiful pirate had imprinted herself not only on young Claire's body but also her heart. The heart that now beat a tune that synched with Isabela's own footsteps, and cracked a little more every time she witnessed her love peddling her wares with some drunken patron. The undisguised lust in the soon-to-be-conquests eyes made Hawke sick to her very stomach and her chest to seize in an icy encasing. Hawke knew herself to be attractive, despite the scar on her face. However, many were not deterred by the disfigurement; actually, it supposedly made her even more desirable. But, apparently not enough to change her pirate's wily ways.

Her feelings were now blatantly obvious, even to Merrill, and that meant basically everybody knew. Hawke had a sneaking suspicion Isabela herself knew. The pirate was a damn good fighter and even better at figuring out when somebody was deceiving her. If naïve Merrill could figure it out, then the busty pirate could as well. That's why Hawke made herself blissfully unaware, or at least as much as she could be. Because, if Isabela did know of her attraction…it meant she was not interested or just did not give a shit. And that…that was not a though the champion could cope with.

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Thus, the reason why her throat was currently burning from the alcohol and her stomach was a pleasant inferno. The spirits dulled her pain somewhat, a welcome relief. The heartsick woman continued to down flagons of alcohol, unaware that eyes were trained on her; watching her every move. Varric Tethras was no stranger to pubs, especially one specific one slated as the Hanged Man. He also had partaken in his fair share of ale and beer, and welcomed the dulling of memory at each such jaunt. But, seeing his normally humorous and friendly leader so obviously torn–up…well, it spurred him into action. The dwarf sauntered over to the hunched form of the warrior, resting his beloved sweetheart Bianca on his shoulder.

"What are you doing on this fine night, Hawke? More importantly, why is my esteemed leader drowning her sorrows in generous amounts of booze?" Hawke's blue eyes turned to her partner. "Well my dear friend, I am getting totally snockered. Would you care to grab a pint and join me? Sure we could have us a few laughs at our fellow patrons' expense." "Hmmm, as appealing as that sounds…and it surely does sound grand, I am more concerned with you intake tonight. Tell me, Hawke: why the suppressants? You normally do not touch alcohol, especially the amount you have ingested."

Hawke shrugged and shook her head loftily. "No reasons; I am just rejoicing in my victories and title. Would anyone bear argument with my right? I have earned a drink and more." Varric patiently nodded. "Yes, you have earned a drink and all the fame you have gotten, but that is not the true answer, and you and I both know that. Come on, Hawke, you know you can tell me. Partners, right?" Blue eyes met with steady brown; sighing, Hawke caved into the dwarf. "Alright…the real reason for me coming here was to escape…escape my life, my pain…my love."

Varric's eyes glistened with sympathy and understanding. "The pirate, eh?" Blue eyes widened, and then deflated in acceptance and surrender. "Sigh…it was really that obvious, huh?" "'Fraid so, m'dear. If Merrill can sense your attraction to Isabela, the entire group can. I have known for some time; just waiting on you to say somethin'." Hawke closed her eyes, nodding. Her hand was still wrapped around her glass. She took a quick swig, enjoying the liquid sliding down her throat. "Well, there is your confirmation. The great and illustrious Champion of Kirkwall has fallen into the world's oldest and deadliest trap: love. And with such a viable candidate, too. My heart certainly knows how to pick them."

Varric seated himself across from the distraught fighter. His heart ached for the young woman; she had been dealt a tragic hand from the get-go. Now, she has fallen into the lion's den, and she may not be strong enough to pull herself out. Isabela was a nice enough gal; easy on the eyes, kicks ass, and, Andraste's Tits were her boobs absolutely marvelous! But, she was also the worst woman for the young warrior to fall in love with. The pirate had intimacy issues, even more-so than Varric himself. The woman was in no way eager to be entrapped by a person again; her sham of a marriage took care of that. Running away was what the pirate was good at, and Hawke was not fast enough to catch her. Isabela used sex like it was a handkerchief; it is good to have on hand, but after the mess is cleaned up it is better to dispose of it. Now, the young Dalish elf on the other hand….

"Forget about Isabela, Hawke. She and you…you're no good together. She is ice and you are fire. She is a rogue, and you are a warrior. She is a whore, and you're…almost pure. Now, if a good girl is what you seek, Merrill is single and available…?" Hawke looked incredulously at the unrepentant dwarf. "Are you seriously trying to set Merrill and me up? While I am drowning my sorrows for another in cheap spirits?" "Well there is a certain appeal about her. I mean, sure her chest is not nearly as voluminous and she has no clue whatsoever about sex or even dating…but the elf is good. And she would love you; you know this. Hell, the girl practically worships you! And, given time to flourish and blossom, I think you two could be very happy together." Hawke absorbed the words. It really was not a bad idea. But...there was something holding her back. "Merrill is a great woman, and she will make somebody very, very happy someday…but, my heart has chosen Isabela. As much as it pains me and fills me with regret, that will never change."

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Varric opened his mouth to talk some sense into his friend, when the door to the bar opened wide, letting in hot air and loud, raucous voices. The dwarf and Hawke both froze at the sound of a familiar, seductive voice. _Oh fucking great…why couldn't tonight be the night she visits the whorehouse_? Hawke groaned audibly, doing her best not to swivel around and stare at the pirate like a sad puppy. However, one could not ignore the saucy pirate; t'would be doomable to even try. Her boots echoed loudly against the ground as she neared the two seated companions, obviously engaged in an intense discussion with her friend. "…and then I say to him, oh no you won't! This merchandise is not for just anybody; certain requirements must be met before you are given access. The blasted buffoon; he believed me to be like those tavern whores. I do not share someone's bed for monetary gain, I do it for pleasure. So I am allowed to be picky." The woman beside her nodded sagely.

"Too right ya are, pirate. Men…they think they are entitled to any woman they set their sights on. Arrogant, cocky bastards. If they were not so gifted at granting pleasure, I would turn to women. Softer, lighter touches and a brain would be a sight for sore eyes." Isabela guffawed at her blonde companion, steering her towards Hawke and Varric. Hawke sent a quick prayer up. "Well, if it isn't the grand Champion of Kirkwall! And, in a bar, too! Really let this image sink in, Amara; you probably won't ever see it again!" Hawke grumbled. "Oh, full of jokes are you, Isabela? I am surprised to see you here; usually at this time of night you are busy screwing anything that wants to lie between your legs." Amara laughed loudly at the dry comment. "Haha! You were right, 'Bela! She is full of fire and spirit! Mmmm, I wonder what she looks like, underneath her armor…?"

Normally, Hawke would have blanched, but her "dismissal" by the pirate transformed her into a bold flirt. "Hmmm, well I fancy I look like every other warrior when naked: muscled, hot, and ready to pounce." Amara's deep green eyes flashed with unbridled lust. She stared hungrily at Hawke. "Really, now? And does this hot, muscled, ready-to-pounce champion have a mate to lay with her and keep her oh so warm at night? Because, if not, I would be happy to fill the bill." Inwardly, Hawke winced. Only 'Bela could say things like that and sound seductive; this woman just made her want to take a brush and scrub her skin until raw. She was going to stop the flirting before it went any further, but something in Isabela's eyes made her pause. The normally mischievous chocolate eyes were dark, not with arousal, but with anger. A foreign emotion, perhaps jealousy lingered like a fog over them.

Of course, Hawke was not certain that she was not reading into things. Isabela was not the type of person to get jealous; she was a wham-bam-thank you, ma'am kind of gal. But, Hawke could not pass up this opportunity to find out if the pirate had even the tiniest shred of affection in her for Hawke. _I have nothing to lose_….So, Hawke decided to see where this scenario would go. "Well, there was somebody who had offered to take the position, but she is usually out with others. And I am a poor, overworked warrior; I get so lonely in my large, soft bed…." Amara smirked at Hawke, appraising her without even trying to be discreet. Hawke felt a shiver go up her spine as those green eyes traveled her body; and not out of lust. Amara was attractive enough, she supposed; the woman was an inch or two shorter than Hawke, with tan skin and long, curly blonde hair. Her green eyes were an unusual shade, and her body was nice to look at. But, the way she dressed and acted….it was deplorable. She was a slattern, in every sense of the word. There was no way in hell Hawke was jumping into bed with her.

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Isabela, on the other hand…she was dark-skinned due to her Rivaini blood, with long luscious black hair that flowed all the way down her back…sensuous lips always curved in a dangerous smirk…husky, sexy voice whispering dirty things in ears, and smoldering brown eyes…eyes you could stare at for days on end and drown in them as surely as you could in water. Just thinking about her pirate-turned-smuggler set her body aflame. "Hmm, I would love to be of service to you, Ser Hawke. I can assure you that the tools of my trade would be something you would very much…appreciate." Some of Hawke's desire for her love seeped into her fake words. "Can't argue with that. If the results are deemed satisfying, maybe I will let you have the permanent position…at night. I must warn you, though; I am not like the others you have bedded. My tastes…are harder to please. Think you are up to the challenge?" Amara was about to give a resounding hell yes; Hawke was just praying for somebody to step in and save her. It seemed the Maker finally decided to show his face that day.

"Now now, Amara. We have talked about boundaries before, yes?" Amara cocked her head. "Boundaries? Why of course we have. But, Hawke is not yours and you have never spoken of any stirrings of desire for her; in my eyes, she is fair game." Isabela smiled a slow smile; that smile translated to 'shits about to go down'. "See, that is where you are wrong. Hawke is my friend, my very….close…friend….and is unavailable to you, or anyone for that matter. Sorry for the confusion, pal." Amara, besides being a raging slattern, was apparently not too bright either. "I don't see your name tattooed on her. Besides, she wanted me to join her in her bed. If she wanted you, she would have told you." _Or not_…. A sheepish smile was on Hawke's face. "In case you did not know, which you wouldn't have, I have already "visited" her mansion and toured her home. I especially found her bedroom to be quite…thrilling. Very spacious, and sizeable…and quiet. It also has a good echo in there. 'Specially when you are working up a sweat."

Varric, who had not exactly known about their dalliance, turned a dusky red color. He grabbed Hawke's drink and gulped down the rest. _Ah hell…they are your companions; do not think about them! Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts_… when Isabela grabbed Hawke's arm possessively, Varric let out a choked sound. _Blast it! Cold shower, cold shower, cold shower_… Hawke's thoughts were similar to the dwarf's, except for a healthy dose of confusion. Amara glared at Isabela, angry at the smuggler for dismissing her staked claim. "I do not care if you were already with her; she is obviously tired of you and needs somebody who can keep up." The look in Isabela's eyes could melt the strongest of steel. "Oh, I can keep up just fine, doll. Which is more than I could say for your performance with Zevran. Oh, yes, he told me alllll about it. Apparently, sleeping with a Mabari would have brought him more pleasure than you." Green eyes darkened now with humiliation; the woman turned to flee, having finally realized she had lost. "Oh, and Amara? Might want to watch your back; I really do not like you. Can't rightly say I ever truly did. But, now I am definitely pissed. Ragingly, so. So, best watch out. Now, if you excuse me, I have a warrior to pounce." Amara quickly fled, eyes looking behind her back often. She would keep looking back until she was safely behind closed doors.

Brown eyes turned to the speechless pair who had witnessed the exchange. "Nice night tonight, huh? Well, off we go Hawke. Got a long night ahead of us. Oh, and never, ever flirt with another human being ever again. I am not fond of sharing. And you are most assuredly _mine_." As the wench pulled her away from the table and comforts of her drink, Hawke could not bring herself to care about the previous double standard. She could not mention that Isabela herself had bounced around off of people, or that the smuggler had never officially said they were together. But, the woman had just saved her from the clutches of a witch, and went cavewoman on her. In her book, that sounded an awful lot like love. Jealousy never looked so good.

Varric, meanwhile, sat staring at the now closed pub door. His mind went wild with all the crazy scenarios and compromising positions his imagination came up with; twas a blessing and a curse. Oh well, at least Hawke was happy. It looked like her feelings may be returned, and her bed would surely be less lonely from now on. But now he had nobody to matchmake with Merrill….or, did he? _Claire is not the only Hawke available…hold on to your armor, Bethany; an adorable elf is coming your way_…

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